


Hold My Heart

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Consensual Violence, Disembowelment, F/M, Fluff, Organs, Skinning, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg had done this before, both willingly and unwillingly. Hollowing someone out was a popular torture method in Hell, and she had gone through it several times with Alistair and Azazel. After she’d gotten out of Hell, she’d done all sorts of things to her human hosts, and had even disemboweled a few of them herself, just to see what pulling out her own intestines would feel like. But no one had ever been gentle with her when they’d done it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold My Heart

Meg wiggled on the table as Castiel stripped his shirt off and neatly folded it before he placed it on the bottom level of her rolling cart full of toys. He looked nervous, his mouth set in a grim line as he looked at her collection of blades. Meg wanted to tell him to hurry up, to just get on with it, but she knew better than to press him. Whenever they did something new, Castiel usually took him time as he thought about what he was about to do.

Finally, he reached out and ran his fingers lightly over one of the blades. She’d only lain out a handful of them, since they really didn’t need a large collection this time, and Castiel was familiar with each and every one. He’d used them all on her, at one time or another, and she’d used them all on him as well. Still, he took his time, picking up each one and squinting at it in the dim light of the bunker’s dungeon before he replaced it on the tray. Meg folded her hands behind her head and settled down to wait.

“Do we have everything we need?” Castiel asked her when he was finished examining the blades.

“I got everything set up last night,” Meg assured him.  Castiel looked at her for a moment before he reached down and dragged a large, dented bucket over to the table.

“Should I tie you down?”

Meg considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. While it was necessary to tie Castiel down during their more extreme sessions to prevent him from accidentally killing her, she hardly ever had to be tied down when it was her turn on the table. She couldn’t kill him, after all, although he had tied her down several times when she’d asked, to add to their fun.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said. Castiel narrowed his eyes at her before he turned to the table once again. His eyes, normally a clear blue, looked almost black in the faint light of the dungeon, and the thought made her shiver in excitement. He looked paler than normal, too. Shadows played over his well-muscled back, and his hair had darkened under the artificial lights of the lamps as well.

In contrast, her pale skin almost glowed. There was a large, florescent lamp hanging over the table in order to give the torturer ample light to work on their victim, and the artificial glow stretched over the whole table like a spotlight. She’d braided her hair before they’d started, and it dangled off the table behind her, out of the way of blood and bits of organs.

Castiel turned again and held up a long, thin blade. “Are you ready?”

Meg took a deep breath and stretched on the cold, metal table. Her back cracked. She sighed happily and relaxed, her whole body going limp. “Okay.”

Castiel swallowed hard and came to stand next to her. The harsh glow of the lamp gave a slight yellow tint to his skin, and she noticed that he looked sick.

Meg sat up. “Hey, it’s okay if you’re not up for it.”

“I just haven’t had much practice at this,” he said.

“Well, there really aren’t many ways you can fuck it up,” she pointed out. Meg settled back down onto the table. “You’ll do fine.”

Castiel took a deep breath and raised the blade. “Let me know if I go too far.”

Meg nodded and closed her eyes. She kept her breathing even as Castiel gently traced the blade across her belly, not quite pressing hard enough to cut, but pressing hard enough that she could feel the metal scraping at her skin. He seemed to be looking for the proper place to begin cutting, as if he was not quite sure what he wanted to do to her just yet.

He kept at it for a couple of minutes, moving the blade down between her legs and slowly scraping it upward until it was resting between her breasts. Meg felt herself growing drowsy, and was almost ready to fall asleep when Castiel pressed the knife into her skin.

Sucking in a breath, Meg squeezed her eyes shut as Castiel cut her. He started between her breasts and worked downward at an angle, avoiding actually cutting them off. She’d sharpened her blades the day before, and even though Castiel was pressing lightly, it was enough to cut her deep. Blood flowed freely from the cut, marring her pale skin and dripping down onto the table under her.

Castiel drew the blade out of her, moved up to his original spot, and began to cut again. Meg let out a small gasp as he moved the blade. She could feel her skin starting to separate from her body, could feel the cold air of the dungeon rushing around her cut to kiss the inside of her body.

Castiel finished the other angled cut, abruptly turned the knife, and brought it downward in a straight line to the end of her belly, almost at her hip. He made a final cut to connect the two sides, the knife moving so slow that she felt Castiel pull at the delicate curls between her legs as he cut.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked her.

Meg opened one eye and smiled at him. “This is a practically a spa treatment for me, Clarence.”

Castiel grunted and reached back up between her breasts. Meg blinked and tilted down to look at his work. He’d started working from the top of her breasts, cutting down to form a sort of triangle before he straightened out his lines into a large square. They were slightly uneven, some more jagged than others, and the cuts were deeper the further they traveled down her body, but they weren’t bad. Not for a first attempt.

The wounds throbbed with pain as Castiel delicate pushed the knife under the skin at the very top of the triangle. Meg took a deep breath, moaning when it forced more blood out of her, and moaned again as Castiel began to delicately peel her skin away. He moved slowly, using his knife to saw through the strings of flesh and fat that bound her skin to the rest of her, stopping every few moments to murmur soothing nonsense to her. Meg felt involuntary tears well in her eyes, and knew without looking that they had turned black in response to the pain.

She felt Castiel pause to press a soft kiss to her neck before he went back to work. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at him in encouragement, anyway. Each stroke of his blade sent a fresh wave of pain through her body. The slow peel of her skin reminded Meg of taking off a Band-Aid, only much more painful and much, much bloodier. She could feel her body’s temperature dropping as more and more blood poured from the wound that Castiel was slowly opening on her body. The smell of it filled the room until it was intoxicating and Meg took in a deep breath to taste it in the back of her throat as arousal began to gather in her belly from the pain and smell of blood.

Through it all, Castiel was gentle. His fingers barely brushed her skin, and although he moved slowly, his cuts were precise, and mostly neat.

Castiel finally pulled away the last of her skin with a small, soft sucking sound. Meg let out a loud moan and twitched, making sure to keep her hands neatly at her side. Part of her wanted to reach down between her legs and smear her blood over herself as it ran in waves from the gaping wound on her torso, but the other part of her wanted to see what Castiel would do next, if he could bring himself to go further like they’d planned. So she forced herself to relax and breathe deeply and evenly.

Opening her eyes, she watched Castiel neatly clean the knife with a spare rag from the bottom of the cart. Meg took the opportunity to glance down at herself, smiling when she saw what he’d done to her meatsuit. Her breasts were still intact, although they were covered with blood, her nipples pebbled in the cold air of the room. Beyond that, though, her torso was a mess. The meat of her body was a ghastly red-black in the light of the florescent bulb, and she could clearly see the marks that Castiel left behind in it due to his inexperience. While he had been mostly careful, she still sported several tears from his knife and fingernails.

Her whole body throbbed pleasantly, the beat steady and in time with her heart. She could feel herself growing wet between the legs due to the faint pain coursing through her body, and had to struggle to keep her breathing deep and even instead of harsh and excited.

Castiel finished cleaning the knife and picked up the large piece of skin that he’d cut from her. Walking over to the clothesline that Meg had set up in the room just before she climbed on the table, he draped the skin over it and gave it an affectionate pat. Meg resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

“What, you wanna make a wallet with it? Maybe some boots?”

“I was thinking of keeping a small square,” Castiel confessed when he returned and began looking over the knives again. “I once read a book where the antagonist kept a piece of his victim’s skin in a locket around his neck. The situation is not quite the same, but a keepsake would be nice.”

“Sap,” Meg teased. Castiel’s lips twitched and then straightened out, as if he was suppressing a smile. He selected a larger knife and strode back to the table, frowning when he saw the shape her body was in.

“You’re bleeding an awful lot. Should we stop?” he asked.

“I told you, this is like a day at the spa for me,” Meg insisted. “I’ll be fine. Not even twitching or anything. See?” She raised her hand. True to her word, she was neither trembling nor twitching. The blood that had pooled on the table was smeared on her palm. Meg brought it to her mouth and licked at it, smiling as she did. She smiled wider when she saw Castiel watching her intently.

Castiel raised the knife again and gently pushed it into the exposed meat of her stomach to peel it away, revealing the organs underneath. Due to the angle of his cuts, the bottoms and sides of her ribcage slowly revealed itself as well, and Meg gasped loudly as Castiel pulled away the flesh keeping them hidden. She could feel the bones tearing at the ragged edges of the wound when she breathed hard, and warm blood flowed freely from her body with the smell of sulfur.

Castiel reached up and gently stroked her neck. “Okay?”

Meg squirmed under his touch. It was so light that it tickled. “Okay.”

Castiel nodded and went back to his work, slowly carving away pieces of her flesh and dropping them into the bucket at his feet. Meg inhaled sharply at each cut, but moaned happily every time a piece of her was freed. Castiel didn’t look at her face again, but instead his hand drifted down between her legs as he casually dropped another chunk of flesh into the bucket. His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise when he felt how wet she was, but other than that his face remained impassive even when he pushed a finger into her. Meg tried to wiggle down onto his hand, but stopped when Castiel glared at her.

“I thought you were supposed to sit still during all of this,” he said casually. Meg bared her teeth at him in a half-smile.

“Well, you can’t get a girl all worked up and then expect her to just lie here.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but returned to his work, pulling away the last of her flesh with a savage yank. It was the first non-gentle movement he had made, and the force of it mad Meg jerk on the table from surprise. When she looked down, she saw that her body’s insides were completely exposed, the soft, pink organs tinted a gray-yellow under the florescent light.

Castiel gently laid his hand on her stomach, pressing just hard enough that she could feel him squishing the delicate organ. “Hands or knives?”

Meg looked at the ceiling for a moment, thinking it over, and shrugged. “You pick.”

He hesitated, fingers wandering over her intestines and liver and stomach. Meg shivered at the feeling and resumed squirming on the table. She’d lost so much blood already that her skin was deathly pale, bleached chalky white, but her heart still beat fast and hard inside of her chest. It was a strange to feel her insides slowly cooling, to feel her heart pounding against her ribcage with no skin to muffle it.

Castiel gave her a playful smile, bent down, and licked the bottom of an exposed rib. Meg laughed, her whole body shaking with the sound. Castiel licked her rib again and gently worked his teeth around the very bottom of it to bite her. It didn’t hurt, not really, but Meg could feel pressure on the bone, and it made her laugh again.

Her laughter changed into a short, sharp scream of pain when Castiel plunged his hand into her body. While this wasn’t the first time someone had been wrist-deep in one of her body’s insides, this particular meatsuit was a virgin when it came to torture, and the body had not yet gotten used to certain sensations. Vibrations traveled up her body through her spine when Castiel’s fingers crashed against it as he shifted through her intestines. Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks from the pain, and Meg had to struggle to keep another scream in her throat when Castiel grabbed her spine.

A small, wet noises reached Meg’s ears as Castiel pulled his hand out of her.

His hand was covered in bright-red blood up to the wrist, and it sluggishly dripped down his arm. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked the blood off lazily, shooting her a smile when he noticed that she was watching. Her blood left a red stain on his mouth and pink lines between his teeth.

He was gentle the second time he slipped inside of her. He used both hands to gingerly feel each organ, and Meg caught him muttering their names as he touched each one. Castiel took a deep breath, slipped the fingers of both hands under her stomach, and gave it a small tug. Meg let out an undignified squeak at the feeling. There was only a little pain, but she could feel her stomach throbbing in time with her heartbeat, could feel her whole body struggling to preserve the connection between the organ and the rest of her body as Castiel worked it free with a wet slurping sound.

Meg grunted in pain and shivered on the table as Castiel carefully lowered her stomach into the bucket and placed it on top of the discarded pile of skin and meat he’d already placed there. He would want to save it, she knew, so he could put her back together later. It was a lot easier to reconnect organs than to regrow them, after all.

Castiel continued working slowly, his touches feather-light on her exposed body. He paused occasionally to gently stroke her neck or blood-smeared skin, sometimes squeezing an organ before pulling it out of her. The pain was fading by the time he reached her liver and worked it free, more like a background noise than anything. The harsh florescent bulb began to hurt her eyes, and Meg’s head was swimming from the blood loss. Castiel’s arms were covered in her blood up to the elbow, and it was smeared across his face from when he’d brushed his dark hair out of his eyes.

Throughout it all, he was gentle.

Meg had done this before, both willingly and unwillingly. Hollowing someone out was a popular torture method in Hell, and she had gone through it several times with Alistair and Azazel. After she’d gotten out of Hell, she’d done all sorts of things to her human hosts, and had even disemboweled a few of them herself, just to see what pulling out her own intestines would feel like.

But no one had ever been gentle with her when they’d done it. It had always been messy, the hollowing out part, and it was usually done quickly, with another demon tearing out her insides and laughing as they fed them to her or threw them at her feet, scooping them from her body with different tools like melon ballers and handheld vacuums, or shredding them with knives and eggbeaters until her insides were soup. Castiel, however, paused between each step to study her body and give her time to breathe before he moved on.

He pulled her intestines out in one long, purplish-gray coil, raising his arms high above his head. Meg laughed when a  look of frustration flitted across his face at just how long they really were, and he wound up having to drop half of them into the bucket to get the remaining half out of her.

“I’ve never done this before,” he reminded her. “I had no idea they were so…long.”

“About twenty feet,” she said cheerfully, wincing when he finally pulled the last of it out. It smacked wetly against the other organs in the bucket and sent a small spray of blood upward. It was dotted on Castiel’s cheeks and chest from when he’d held them high above his head.

Castiel shook his head and reached back into her. Meg tried to keep her breathing steady and even, but it was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on anything but the burning pain and her weakness from the blood loss. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, and ignoring Castiel’s glare, moved her hand under her ribs to feel it. It was beating weakly now, and slow, but it was easy for her to find. Her lungs felt slimy and cold next to it, but her heart still felt warm and strong despite the fact that it was failing.

She gave it a small squeeze and gasped in pain, repeating the process when it left behind a low hum of pleasure. Castiel tilted his head at her, curious, and reached his own hand up under the protection of her ribs to grab her heart as well until they were both holding it.

“Leave it in,” Meg said sleepily. Castiel gave her heart a gentle squeeze, but did as she requested, carefully unhooking her own fingers from around it and pulling her hand back out. Her blood mingled, sticky, on their palms. Castiel squeezed her hand in the same way he had squeezed her heart and returned to his work, pulling out her kidneys and uterus and ovaries until she was completely hollow below her ribcage and her body was nothing more than a wet, red collection of torn flesh and bone. The front of her spine was mostly exposed, the snowy-white vertebrae pushing through the small sheath of flesh left clinging to her back.

Castiel dropped the last of her organs into the bucket and narrowed his eyes at the mess he’d left behind. He tilted his head to the side and slowly walked two fingers up the exposed line of her spine, a look of intense concentration on his face, as though he was thinking about what to do to her next.

He moved faster than she’d ever seen him move. One second his fingers were dancing over her spine, the next they were plunging downward through her cervix to stroke at the tight inner walls of her cunt. Meg made a harsh sound somewhere between a scream of pain and a scream of pleasure at the sudden intrusion, her whole body jerking on the table. Castiel put his other hand on her chest, over her heart, to keep her pinned as she writhed on the table. He twisted his fingers inside of her, his nails tearing at the delicate skin. His thumb played over her clit as he worked his fingers through her opening, sending shocks of pleasure through her body to counteract the pain, working until she was torn open.

Meg let out a breathy sigh when he pulled his fingers from her and absently wiped them on his pants. She hadn’t thought that her body had any blood left, but if the fresh coating on his fingers was any indication, she still had plenty to give.

She was soaked between the legs, and trembling from the blood loss and pain, and couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. She was colder than she’d ever been, and she could barely feel her lungs working or her heart beating.

It was Heaven.

When he failed to clean his fingers on his pants, Castiel absently stuck them in his mouth to suck them clean as he walked around the table to the end of it. There wasn’t enough room for him to climb on top of her, since the table was so narrow, but he didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at her, wrapped his hands around her ankles, and yanked her forward so her legs were dangling over the edge of the table and he could slot himself between her thighs. She could feel his cock pressing against her through his pants, and it made her smile through the pain that ripped through her as she slid across the table.

“You should’ve just done this naked,” she teased as Castiel struggled with his belt. He glared at her as he yanked his dress pants down to his knees, freeing his cock. She could see a bead of pre-come at the slit, and wondered how long he had been walking around like that, since his bottom half had been hidden by her view by the table.

She spread her legs wider apart for him, laughing when he tried to find some spot to grab her and kept accidentally tearing at the wounds he’d made. Finally, he gave a growl and simply flung her knees over his elbows and pushed inside of her in one rough stroke.

Meg threw her head back and moaned. Her hair had begun escaping its braid, small chunks of it sticking to her neck and face with sweat. Castiel fucked her roughly, every thrust jarring the ragged wounds on her body and sending pain through her as Castiel ripped through the ragged remains of her cervix with his cock.

Panting, she opened her eyes and saw the head of it peeking into the hollow cavity of her body. It was scarlet from the blood on it, and the sight, absurdly, made her laugh until Castiel gave a hard thrust and it changed into a scream of pain.

Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the smooth metal table below her, and Castiel was too far away for her to grab without causing herself even more pain. Instead, she raised her fingers and hooked them through the spaces between her ribs, gripping the bones tight enough to feel the pressure. She managed to pry her fingers away long enough to drop one of her hands down between her legs, but replaced it back around her ribs when Castiel growled and knocked her hand away from her clit.

She kept her hands anchored in her ribs even when Castiel dropped her legs, and draped himself over her. He put his blood-soaked hands on either side of her head, and Meg twisted her neck to lick her own blood off his fingers, smiling when Castiel shuddered above her. Without warning, he plunged his hand back between her ribs and began squeezing her heart in time with his thrusts, making her shudder and gasp and writhe under him. It made it impossible to breathe, impossible to think, impossible to concentrate on one sensation. She could feel her brain overloading from the mix of pain and pleasure coursing through her, and opened her mouth to let out another scream as she came. Castiel sealed his lips over hers as she did, swallowing the noise, and fiercely squeezed her heart, still pumping into her body through her orgasm.

He kept his grip on it through his own pleasure, only releasing the organ when he finally stilled above her, his whole body shaking. Meg dislodged her hand from her ribs and reached down between their bodies, wiggled her fingers into the gaping hole that had been her stomach, and pushed down until she felt his softening cock and gave it a squeeze.

He laughed and shifted his hips, drawing his cock away from her fingers. He smiled at her and pressed their foreheads together. Meg returned the smile and moved both her hands up to fan her fingers across his cheeks. The blood on her hands had dried by then, so it did not smear across his skin, but still tumbled off in flakes. Castiel gave her a quick kiss and pushed himself to his feet, stretching.

Meg looked down and saw bright-white stripes of come marring the perfect redness of her abdominal cavity. A few of the spurts had even traveled far enough to splash against her lungs, although none had hit her heart.

She laughed and went to stand up, too, wincing when her body refused to work properly. “Fuck.”

“That is one way to put it,” Castiel said as he re-did his pants. “Sit still. I have to put you back together again.”

“I’m not Humpty Dumpty. Everything’ll grow back just fine,” she said, sighing as she readjusted herself on the table. “Get on with it, then. You won’t be able to sew the skin back on, though, not without it looking like shit. Maybe next time you should just slit me open and pin it back.”

“I thought we were going to make something out of it,” he said. His face was once again impassive, so Meg couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“There should be bandages and stuff on the bottom of the cart,” Meg told him. “You can fix me up, then, if you want, we can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, or something. Lazy day.”

Castiel walked around the table and lightly brushed the stray hair away from her face before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “That sounds nice. Stay here, and I’ll go get the bandages. Then I’ll put everything back.”

“Have at it,” she said. Castiel nodded and moved back toward the cart. Meg could feel her body healing already. Her heart began beating strongly again, and it became easier to breathe. Meg took in a deep breath and reached between her ribs to stroke her heart again.

Castiel came back, arms laden with supplies, and hesitantly reached his hand out. “Can I touch it one more time?”

Meg puffed her chest out. “You can have it, if you want. It’ll grow back. You could stick it in a jar.”

Castiel squeezed her heart again. “You’re turning into quite the romantic, Meg.”

She grew serious. “It’s yours, you know. Doesn’t matter if it’s in me or not.”

He squeezed it again. “I know.”


End file.
